


Warehouse Shopping with Watson

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Gen, I'm sure I'm forgetting tags I'm sorry, M/M, Natasha Romanov is a good mama bear, PNES, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Seizures, Service Dog Teams, Team as Family, Triggers about shopping, Watson the service dog, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, costco, warehouse shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25466632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: Hi!  Here's another installment of my Bucky & Watson series.  Shopping is always a bit of challenge for me.  My own Watson helps a lot.  I really like writing Natasha as a sort of mother figure.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Shuri & T'Challa (Marvel), the avengers as family
Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758628
Kudos: 37





	Warehouse Shopping with Watson

***

“Why?” Natasha asked the universe. She had never been particularly spiritual, her upbringing in the Red Room ensured that particular view of the world. 

“Why what?” Peter asked, accidentally ramming the cart into the back of Natasha’s ankles. The twinge of pain shot up the back of her legs. 

Ignoring the discomfort, Natasha counted the bunches of bananas that occupied the child seat and drew a line on the list. “Why is this so difficult. We’re all adults.” 

Upon entering the airy wholesale supermarket, any self-control the majority of the Avengers had, evaporated. Her teammates scattered to the wind, giddy at the chance to stretch their limbs after being cooped up for hours in the rented minivan. 

Shuri had requested a bathroom that was not just off a major highway, which had led the group to a Costco in Vermont. Pepper texted her a shopping list, which Bruce had added to the multiplying list of their own requests. Ultimately, Natasha had been left holding the membership card just inside the building. Some vacation this was turning out to be. 

Peter began to answer, but let out an excited squeal instead. Natasha followed his gaze to a gigantic pile of squishy animal-inspired pillows. 

Popping the pen in her mouth for safekeeping, Natasha used her free hand to grab the back of the Spider-kid’s shirt. 

“Aw.” He whined. “Sorry Ms. Romanoff.” 

“Natasha.” She corrected, tugging the cart towards a happy T’Challa. He and his sister, the Princess of Wakanda, had arrived in the country a few days before. They, along with Banner, Peter and James were driving to Vermont for a ‘mandatory’ vacation. Pepper could be quite persuasive. After all, she was married to the very definition of a wild card. She had managed to keep Tony relatively safe all these years. Organizing a trip for superheroes was easier than trying to keep her husband out of trouble. 

“Look! Strawberries.” T’Challa grinned, several cartons safely stacked in his arms. 

Peter’s eyes widened. Natasha could almost see him salivating, the ravenous teenager thinking only of food. The poor kid had a metabolism that rivaled Cap’s. “Can we get whipped cream?” He pleaded. 

“But-” Natasha pointed to the wrinkled piece of paper. “The list.” 

Peter frowned, but stood dutifully behind the oversized cart. “Okay.” 

T’Challa gently piled the cartons in the corner of the trolley, bolstering them with several large bags of popcorn. “My sister also likes whipped cream. We can make some.” 

“I bet they have like gallons of it here.” Peter hopped from one foot to the other. “Can we get heavy cream? I bet the house has a high-tech kitchen. We just need one of those, um, you know.” He mimed whipping together a bit of sugar and cream. Getting blank stares, Peter blushed and starting moving away from the adults. 

“Hold it!” Natasha placed herself in front of the cart. She tried, and failed to keep a smile from her face. The kid was brilliant, a combination of Banner and Tony’s best traits. “Where are the others?” 

“Um.” Peter frowned. “Dr. Banner is getting toilet paper with Shuri?” 

“Supposed to be.” Muttered Natasha. She was not at all confident that the duo had managed to stay on task. “Was James with them?” 

“James?” T’Challa asked. 

“White Boy.” Shuri chirped. “Our first.” She clarified with a wink. Recently, the princess had developed a pattern of adopting injured white men. She liked to use her wealth of technology and smarts to problem-solve their life-threatening issues. T’Challa liked her hobby, because it kept her out of politics. 

Peter gaped at the two plastic wrapped bundles of toilet paper that Banner had wedged in the trolley. Bruce reached for Natasha’s list and crossed off the itemized paper goods. “What else do we need?” 

“Need is a strong word.” She scanned the remaining items. “Most of these are snacks.” Natasha noted the handwriting had changed from Bruce’s scrawl to a more childish one. Peter had edited the list to include half of the store’s snack packs. 

“Sustenance is important.” Shuri looked at Peter. “This one is practically drooling.” 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha extracted a ten-dollar bill from her pocket. “This will cover enough to fill your enhanced stomach Spidey. Treat the princess to a berry smoothie.” 

“Thanks Ms. R- “He caught himself and quickly altered his words. “Ms. Natasha.” 

“Where’s Barnes?” Bruce asked, checking the time on his watch. “Pepper’s been texting me. Steve hasn’t been able to get a hold of his boyfriend.” 

Natasha re-focused her attention. “That’s been my question.” Something like anxiety roiled in the depths of her gut. Natasha hoped that James had simply taken a moment to get some air, or take Watson to pee in a patch of grass somewhere in the vast parking lot. Her gut told her that something else was going on. She tapped out a text, hoping that her gut was wrong. 

***

His hands clamped over his mouth. Someone screamed. Sweat beaded at his brow, dripping down his face. Heat radiated from his shoulders. Reality fades away and his body shivers in the freezing cell that hijacks his memory. 

Icicles punctured his intestines. Wrists and ankles bound. Voices ordered, repeated and obliterated his sense of self. 

A burst of electricity ruptured his vision. Unidentifiable colors surged across his eyes, before blackness descended. From experience that he could not name, he knew that his hearing would be the next to disappear. 

The rubber clenched between his teeth strained under the pressure. Teeth cracked, but the Asset felt no physical pain. 

A white-hot fire scorched his brain. No. The Weapon lacked a brain. Lacked will and self-discipline. 

The handlers chose for him. They provided. He needed them to survive. Vision and hearing returned. The Asset blinked. A man yanked the head. No pain. No recognition. No thoughts. 

Warm. The Weapon’s back burned. Punishment? Eyes opened. The room was bright, but too dim to be the cell back at the base. 

Mission report. The Asset’s chest tightened. Malfunctioning, he was malfunctioning again. He could not fail. Failure meant the chair, he would lose everything again. How many lives could an unwilling weapon have? 

The body lurched forward, head between his knees. Soft and wet touched his face. Threat. The Weapon slammed back into the hot wall again, their head cushioned slightly by the knot of hair. Strange mission. 

He blinked. The outline of an animal slowly came into focus. A big black nose sniffed at him, almost touching their own mouth. 

Dog. The word popped into his head. Yes. Dog. Without realizing, his hand contacted the soft body. 

Breath rippled across the animal’s flank. Something rough and warm, like sandpaper pulled at his cheek. Tongue. His brain supplied more words. Like a computer rebooting, he slowly gathered information about his surroundings. 

He talked to the dog. Maybe in English, maybe in Russian. His hands moved and formed shapes that he somehow knew, but could not recall how he had learned. He had a strong sense that he had done this activity many times before. With a tall black man. The man called him Barnes. 

The string of loosely connected thoughts bonded with the name instantly causing an explosion in his head. He swung forward, pounding his fists into the crumbly asphalt. Bucky wiped at his mouth, a trail of spit drying on his shirt. 

Watson whined, pawing at their partner. Bucky’s scrambled brain linked the sudden wave of nausea and Watson’s pawing to an impending neurological storm. 

He fumbled with the phone, vision dotted with burst of color. Aura, a memory supplied. Watson pushed him to the pavement and nudged him to his side with his wet nose. Bucky’s hand dropped the device and latched onto Watson’s coat, seeking the comforting warmth from his thick curly coat. 

***

“Karen?” Peter asked with trepidation. He always wore the custom Stark tech, ready to sling a web and save somebody. 

Natasha pointed at him. “NO.” Now that eager-super-hero attitude was a liability. The last thing she needed was Tony sending out an army of people to a Costco located in Vermont to locate a traumatized and confused veteran spy and ex-assassin. 

He interrupted. “But Tony, maybe he can?” Peter looked nervously between the two women who sandwiched him. 

“No.” Shuri echoed, shaking her head vigorously. “Not a good idea, little spider-boy.” 

The group remained quiet for several beats. T’Challa broke the silence. “The White Wolf has the dog yes? He will keep him safe.” 

“For now, yes.” Natasha confirmed. “But that only buys us time to find him.” 

Bruce swallowed hard. “Steve’s going to have a stroke.” 

“Given his serum, that is not possible, but I understand the sentiment.” Shuri grinned sympathetically and patted Banner’s shoulder.  
***

He comes to with bits of gravel embedded in his cheek. Bucky’s arm is pinned under warm weight. He panics, assuming fire. The warmth has a heartbeat. He inhales in panic, jerking away from the touch. Warm and wet scrapes across his flesh and bone hand. 

He opens his eyes, Familiar black fur. A purple and black harness with familiar white lettering. He is able to read the words, SERVICE DOG. English. 

A name struggles to the surface of his drowning brain. Watson. Watson means safety. Watson, he repeated to himself. His head bends to touch the dog’s coat. They breath in tandem until he recalls his name. James. Bucky. Soldier. Barnes. 

The sun reflects light off of a smooth surface in his peripheral vision. He reaches for the object. A phone. He wonders if he managed to call Natalia. Where were they? He tilts the phone towards his face, unable to pull his abdominal muscles tight enough to sit upright. 

He types in his passcode and selects her name. The effort required is enough to make him dizzy. Cotton replaces any linear thoughts in his head. The phone drops from his hand, replaced by Watson. He fades as the familiar tongue nuzzles his face. 

***

Bruce and T’Challa speed through the newly installed self-check out register with the Stark’s credit card. The 3 carts of groceries represent a Capitalistic nightmare that clashes with Natasha’s sparse childhood. Bruce’s skin flashes green when the barcode on his box of tofu is unable to be scanned, but eventually all the items are accounted for and haphazardly loaded back into the trolleys. 

Natasha’s phone rings. James can’t speak, but she understands the intent behind the call. She hears Watson breathing heavily. After a clatter, Natasha hears Watson whining and pawing at something. 

The fact that her friend is able to navigate the touchscreen of the iPhone is good. He is lucid enough to know to contact her. She can assume that he isn’t currently having seizures, PNES or otherwise. Good. For now. That leaves flashbacks and whatever the hell triggered this episode. She makes a mental post-it to thank Kate for teaching Watson how to lead James out of a crowded building. 

Now all they had to do was locate James. She nods to Shuri who without actual verbal instructions opens the app for the custom tracking device embedded with several receivers. Watson’s harness cost more than a top of the line MacBook. Tony and Shuri had both implanted numerous trackers in all of the dog’s equipment and Bucky’s devices in case of emergency. 

“Where are you, white boy?” Shuri murmurs, directing an orchestra of tech in thin air. Something beeps and Shuri dashes towards the exit. She is immediately stopped by Costco staff for pushing a cart without a receipt readily available. 

Ironically, it’s Bruce who manages to smooth things over and the rest of the Avengers run out of the warehouse. 

***

The better part of an hour later, Natasha buckled a post-ictal James into the minivan. By the time Shuri had zeroed in on his location, the man was seizing. Watson had barely acknowledged their arrival, but did allow Natasha to approach her friend. 

The trunk slammed closed and the last of the carts were returned. “It’s a courtesy!” T’Challa exclaimed. “Why do people not put them back? It is easy.” 

Shuri fiddled with the controls in the rental. “Brother, people are stupid.” She grimaced at the lack of acceptable radio stations. They were still a solid 45-minute drive away from their rental in Stowe, Vermont. 

T’Challa slipped into the driver’s seat and slapped his sister’s hand away from the dashboard. “Just connect your phone and you can play DJ.” 

Bruce reached between the seats from the third row of seating in the minivan. Natasha accepted the crinkled plastic bag. “Do you have his rescue meds?” 

“Watson does.” She scratched the dog’s head. Natasha rigged the DIY barf bag to the back of the passenger seat headrest. Watson licked at Bucky’s exposed ankle. James turned towards the general direction of the dog, his body uncoordinated and trembling. 

Natasha gently tipped James’ head back onto the upholstered chair as Bruce eased the seat into a mostly reclining position. “I’ll stay here. Are you okay in the back?” 

Bruce winked. “I’ll double my usual dose of Dramamine and won’t look out the window.” 

“You have some podcasts to listen to, right?” Natasha pulled at the automatic sliding door. “Just let me know if you’re gonna barf.” 

Suddenly a web smacked against the tinted window. Everyone, except a drowsy Bucky, jumped in their seats. 

“Wait!” Peter sprints towards the van, armed with a large lemonade and hot dog.  
Watson boofed, a cross between a bark and whine. The dog cocked his head as the teenager attempted to pump his enhanced brakes. Peter skidded into the vehicle and pitched forward with unspent momentum. 

The lemonade and ice showered Watson, Natasha and Bucky in the sticky, sweet, liquid. 

Watson licked at his own coat happily. Natasha tossed the teenager into the backseat and let out a string of expletives that covered many languages. 

Bucky cracked an eyes and slurred. “Oh no.” His face contorted in confusion as he registered the damp state of his clothes. Cluster seizures usually meant an accident and he was in no mood to have peed his pants in front of a King and Princess.

Natasha interrupted her friend's thought spiral. “It’s lemonade. Go back to sleep.” 

“Huh.” Bucky yawned and fell asleep to the familiar sounds of Wakandan royalty bickering the backseat, Natasha lecturing the youngest Avenger and Watson licking a sticky soft drink from his pants. 

Some vacation, indeed.


End file.
